Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

‘Hmph, you’re a tad too old for such foolishness. You’re a lady, in case you have forgotten. I do not know what your mother would say.’ Dobbs gave a sorrowful shake of his head.

‘She would be struck dumb which, if you know my mother, is not necessarily a bad thing.’

‘The cheek of you,’ Dobbs said, in a tone which tried to sound condemning but, instead, was laced with respect. ‘Well, I’ll have to change the horses, but we’ll be off soon enough.’

Although warmer, the interior was less pleasant than the air outside and Millie rather wished she was perched on the driver’s box with Dobbs. Inside it smelled musty, the atmosphere laced with the memory of a dozen journeys, of bodies crammed too close and sodden footwear.

Moreover, her travelling companion seemed particularly morose. Sam sat opposite her, hunched, his forehead pulled into a frown as he massaged his temples as though this might help him to better remember or make sense of events. His distress was palpable.

‘I am certain you will remember soon.’

‘I wish I shared your certainty,’ he muttered. ‘It is as though a whole piece of my life is missing.’

‘Your mind may be clearer after you have rest.’

‘I cannot rest until I see Frances.’

He turned away from her and seemed uninterested in further conversation so she fell silent, watching the scenery pass. There was an oddness about the journey. When one was in danger, the future did not matter. One lived in that moment, determined to survive from second to second. Now her future crowded in on her. She feared both what she must do and also that her impulsive rashness might have made that duty impossible.

While Millie was hardly thrilled with the idea of marriage to Mr Edmunds, she’d recognised its merits, even before Harwood had made his odious proposition. Her mother and Lil would be allowed to remain in their current house. She could stay in Cornwall and gain some financial stability.

Harwood’s unwanted advances only made marriage to Mr. Edmunds the more necessary. And yet, she appreciated a heavy, hopelessness which weighted her shoulders and tightened her abdomen.

The thought of this loveless marriage felt all the more abhorrent.

She glanced towards Sam. She had never considered that she might have an interest in a more passionate relationship. Indeed, even the thought made the heat rush into her cheeks. And, obviously, they had no future. He was a fashionable gentleman who lived in London. She was an unfashionable, poverty-stricken woman who lived in Cornwall.

But she had felt things she had not thought possible. Lillian might believe in love and happy endings but, for Millie, such things belonged in the foolish novels her sister so frequently enjoyed. However, for a brief, wonderful moment, she had felt something. And while she obviously did not believe in romantic notions, it had made her wonder whether she might be missing something if she married Mr Edmunds, for whom she could not summon even the smallest particle of desire.

She pushed the thought away. Mr Edmunds was middle-aged and already had five children and she sincerely hoped had no great desire to add to his family.

Moreover, she realised her feelings towards Sam were likely heightened by the danger they had experienced, the close confines or a myriad of other reasons, none of which impacted the present.

Laying her head against the glass, she looked at the passing scenery. One could not see the cliffs or ocean and it had none of the desolate windblown danger of the moors, nor the more picturesque beauty of the cottages closer to home.

However, as they progressed the land started to gain familiarity. The road became narrower, branches and leaves sometimes brushing against the window.

She’d be back with her family soon. She wondered if the memory of this experience would even seem real. She wondered if it would be better if it lost the sharp edge of reality, more closely resembling a dream.

Gradually, the carriage started to slow. She straightened, looking at Sam. His worry was evident in the tense lines of his body, but so was his isolation. He seemed to have aged within the last hour. Waiting was always the most difficult. She remembered that well enough with Tom. One’s mind always went to the worst-case scenario.

Doubtless Sam was experiencing that now; lurching between worry that his sister had hurt Ludlow and fear that he, himself, had done so.

‘Sam,’ she said softly.

He turned.

‘I spent rather a lot of time with Tom, and even my father, when they were in their cups. I found that their essential character did not change. I do not know what happened to you, but I do not think either you or your sister would have done anything out of character or wrong.’

‘You have known me for less than forty-eight hours.’

‘During which time we have experienced more than people endured in lifetime. Though you have been irritating at times, you have always been decent.’

‘High praise,’ he said, his sober expression lightening just slightly with a tiny lopsided smile.

‘Likely we won’t see each other much after this so I just wanted you to know that.’

‘Thank you. And, Millie?’

She nodded as the vehicle pulled to a stop.

‘Find out how much Harwood is owed. I have a solicitor and money. No woman should marry Harwood.’

Again she felt that mix of emotion—a flash of angered pride because they were no charity case, but also gratitude. For the first time in for ever, she did not feel entirely alone. ‘Thank you.’

The vehicle shook with Dobbs’s movements as he clambered down. He pulled open the door and cool air whistled inside.

‘I anticipate that you’d prefer to go in sotto voce, so to speak,’ he said, thrusting his head inside, his face reddened from the wind.

Millie blinked in the dim, momentarily disoriented, before realising his meaning. As always, he had an interesting way with words.

‘Er...yes, thank you.’

‘Right, well, we’re just down the drive. You walk up and I’ll take this gentleman home and you...’ Dobbs